


A crushed spirit dries up the bones

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Honor thy father and mother [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Sharing Feelings, Verbal Abuse, danny prying steve's trauma out of his brain with a blunt instrument, john and doris' godawful parenting, minor alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 13:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16577504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Steve finally gets around to telling Danny what happened when his mother died. Turns out there was a lot more going on than Danny could have imagined.





	A crushed spirit dries up the bones

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [ icoulddothisallday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icoulddothisallday/pseuds/icoulddothisallday%22) and [tari-aldarion](https://tari-aldarion.tumblr.com/) for beta work.
> 
> Title taken from Proverbs 17:22: A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.
> 
> I feel like this one doesn't require explanation.

Steve pointedly doesn’t think about what he’s agreed to do. The Navy didn’t encourage him to address his trauma; hell, it didn’t even bother to ask if he had any. Steve had learned at ANA to suck it up and keep his mouth shut, and the Navy, and then Annapolis, didn’t exactly bother with changing what clearly already worked.

And it did work. It got Steve through hurt and loss and trauma. He survived, he celebrated, he went back to work. That was it. But Danny seems to have a knack for finding the loose threads and picking at them until they start to unravel. Now, Steve’s loose threads are fuzzy, tangled messes that only seem to get worse the more he tries to patch them. He wasn’t trained for this.

Deftly, Steve flips the steaks with his tongs and continues to watch as they sizzle over the flame. Danny should be pulling up any minute, Longboards in hand, and expectant that Steve will spill the promised stories of his childhood. 

As he flips the steak again to check its doneness, Steve realizes that he’s utterly failed at distracting himself. There’s a nervous energy buzzing just under his skin and he wants nothing more than to back out of telling Danny. But Steve remembers what it was like in SERE, how bad he wanted to safeword out of the resistance training, how he thought after what felt like days that they might actually kill him. He wanted to get the fuck out — no more waterboarding, no more smoke, no more flashing lights, no more getting hosed. But he didn’t. Steve never once even tried to stop them and he never spilled the information that they asked for. But then they never asked for anything that mattered, not like Danny does anyway.

The steaks plop wetly onto the plate beside the grill, and he turns off the propane. The mosquitos aren’t bad this time of year so Steve figures that they’ll eat out on the lanai, but he covers their dinner with a piece of foil to ward off any stray flies in the meantime. 

Danny is officially late, which Steve is used to when they’re not at work. But tonight, when everything feels out of control, Danny’s tardiness just makes him anxious. Steve’s first thought is that Danny thought better of spending an evening listening to Steve’s emotions — everyone else in his life certainly has — but Steve knows Danny isn’t like that. Then, he begins to worry that something has happened.

It takes Steve just long enough to get the boxed salad out of the fridge, put it in a bowl, and grab the salad dressing, for Steve to go for his phone.

Danny answers on the second ring. “What’s up?” 

Steve closes his eyes for a second, letting the relief wash over him, and then goes to the cabinet for bowls. “Just seeing where you are. You’re late.”

“I’m on island time. You told me this was the way to do things,” Danny protests.

Steve smiles a little and grabs the bowls, dressing, and salad, making his way out the lanai. “It’s fine.”

“You were worried,” Danny declares after a pause.

“I didn’t mean it,” Steve says, mock serious.

Danny rolls right over Steve’s retort, though. “I don’t why you were worried about me. It’s you people ought to be worried about. You’re the one with no sense of self-preservation, or even a basic understanding of what constitutes a reasonable amount of danger.”

Steve hears the front door open and close, and though Danny’s ranting gets closer, he keeps shouting into the phone as he makes his way through the living room, study, and then out onto the lanai. Danny is still railing away into his phone after he comes to a stop in front of Steve. 

“...And furthermore. Parachutes, Steven. Normal people use, _parachutes_.”

“Are you done?” Steve asks into the phone, eyes locked with Danny’s.

“Yes, for now,” Danny replies, sounding a little more sedate than moments ago.

Steve ends the call and pockets his phone. Danny plunks the six-pack of Longboards onto the table and pulls out a chair. 

“I was told there would be steak,” Danny says as he opens a bottle of beer. 

*****

It’s an hour later, they’re done eating and bitching about work, and they’ve migrated from the lanai to the chairs that Steve keeps out by the beach. Danny figures they’re basically just avoiding the subject at this point.

He waits until there’s a suitable pause in the conversation to steer them towards their goal. “So you said you wanted to talk about what happened.”

Steve visibly stiffens, his hand pausing halfway to his mouth with his beer. “Yeah.”

“Well, were you wanting to talk or nah?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny sees Steve’s face set in determination. “I meant it.”

“Alright.”

Steve spends the next minute looking like he’s having an aneurysm before finally opening his mouth. “When Dad- when Dad told me that Mom died, that she was murdered, or I mean, he didn’t outright say it, but he kind implied it, I- everything felt out of control, terrifying. I mean I didn’t know why people were trying to kill my family. Everything and everyone was suddenly suspicious. I mean that’s probably not normal for a kid, but I think Doris- she kind of instilled that in us, always asking why someone wanted to be our friend rather than just being glad people liked us. It was how she lived so we just picked up on it, I guess.”

Danny’s seen the way Steve adopts his co-workers, like he can build another ohana in place of the one he lost. It’s always struck Danny as weird that Steve could risk his life for them, bring them into his home, call them family, and at the same time hold them at arm’s length, like betrayal is always the inevitable outcome of any relationship. It doesn’t seem so strange now that Danny knows where Steve learned it. 

Steve falls silent, and after a moment Danny realizes that Steve hasn’t lost his nerve, just his momentum. “So what happened next?”

“The funeral. It- I’m not sure how. Forensics can sometimes hold onto the body for weeks or months after a crime, but I guess the science wasn’t as advanced back then because it couldn’t have been more than a few days later that we buried her. Two days after that Dad was dropping me off at the airport. 

“I think I missed school the day after she died and again for the funeral. Dad told me that wallowing in grief and self-pity wouldn’t bring her back. We had to be strong, get on with our lives. I didn’t even know he was sending us away until after school the day before we left. He let me pack a small duffle bag and a backpack, said I wouldn’t need much at ANA, they had uniforms so there was no point in taking a whole lot. He gave me one picture of us together. It was from a couple years earlier. We had gone to the North Shore for the day. I don’t know who took the picture. I don’t even remember the day really. But it was all I had of my family anymore — just this photo that I didn’t even remember being in.

“I was so mad that he would do that, send us away. He told us it was to be safe but he didn’t explain from what and he wouldn’t answer my questions. I was sixteen, I felt like he was lying. I didn’t get it. I almost left the picture. It felt like a lie. Mom was dead and Dad got rid of us first chance he got, and I hated that photo because nothing going on in my life resembled that. For a long time I couldn’t even believe it had ever been real.”

Steve’s shoulders are rigid, held back from curling in on himself through force of will. He stares at the empty bottle in his hands, his thumb slowly tracing the rim. Something tells Danny Steve still doesn’t believe it, but maybe that’s a different conversation. Danny lets it go.

“Yeah, that’s a lot to come to grips with,” Danny says carefully.

Steve takes a deep breath and swallows. “Yeah, yeah. So, uh, anyway. Dad sent me and Mary away on different planes. Security or whatever. I barely got to tell her goodbye. Joe picked me up when I flew into San Diego. He took me to get some lunch and then drove me to the school. He was around long enough to walk me to the office and sign the paperwork. He hugged me for a moment, and then told me that I was man now and I had to learn to live like a man. Then, he was gone.”

Danny makes a mental note to shoot Joe in the dick the next time he sees him. 

“I tried to be tough but I just didn’t have it in me. I cried myself to sleep the every night the first week. I learned to be quiet pretty quick in the barracks, otherwise I earned demerits for being awake past lights-out, and the demerits just got me cleaning duty and extra laps. Of course, I also learned that the other boys didn’t exactly take sensitivity training. Crying made me a prime target for bullying, that first week was never really forgiven, got me into a lot of fights.”

Danny rubs his hand over his face and runs his fingers through his hair. He can imagine a tear-streaked kid, alone and grieving, getting taunted in an all-boys school. Boys in Jersey were that same way. “I’m really sorry they treated you like that.”

Steve sniffles even though he doesn’t seem to be crying. “Well, like I said, I got in ten fights that first month. The bullying mostly stopped after they realized that I could kick their asses, and to be fair a lot of them understood once they realized about my mom, but I mean I was always still that kid who had cried himself to sleep.”

Danny’s isn’t pleased about any of it but knowing that Steve wasn’t the target of a mob of teenage boys for two entire years is at least some relief. “I’m glad you were able to make some friends.”

Steve smiles and nods. “It wasn’t too bad in the end.”

That seems a lot like revisionist memory to Danny, but if Steve chooses to focus on the good times with his classmates rather than the bad he has no right to challenge that. “What about what happened with Joe?”

Instantly, the smile is gone. “I saw him maybe three times after he dropped me off. Mostly just at end of year or on breaks when he couldn’t pay another family to take me home or one of his men to pick me up. He wasn’t really part of my life again until SEALs.”

“So we’re just skipping the whole belt situation?” Danny asks maybe a little louder than he needed to.

“Danny, honestly. I mean I get what you meant, we don’t do that now. It’s illegal for a reason, but you’re my age. That was just how people disciplined kids when we were growing up,” Steve argues and Danny nearly chokes on nothing more than the air in his lungs.

“I’m sorry, what now? How who treated kids? Belting kids is not standard in the rest of the world, Steven.”

Steve looks at Danny with one eyebrow arched in amusement. “Don’t tell me your parents never spanked you.”

“What? Yes. Obviously. I was awful. But with their hand, not with a leather belt that left welts. It was never more than ten swats and that was _one time_. Usually five. Then you got hugs and it was over. Christ, Steve, that is not common practice. I knew _one_ kid whose dad belted him regularly and his dad also beat his mom and drunk himself under the table every night,” Danny says.

Steve looks stunned for only a moment and then he shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s as uncommon as you think, Danny.”

Danny would spit out his drink if he had one. “Steve, I was a cop in Newark for sixteen years. I’ve seen a lot of kids and a lot of abuse. I also know a lot of parents. It’s not something people do regularly there. Maybe Hawaii is more into leather belts than us Newarkers. Doesn’t really fit with the whole aloha spirit thing but I wouldn’t know, I’m not really Hawaiian. I can barely surf after all. My point is that you’re justifying something you openly admit is considered child abuse. Also, do not think it escaped my notice that you were apparently belted more than just that once when Joe did it. How bad was it, Steve?”

Steve shakes his head. “It wasn’t ‘bad,’ Danny, and it wasn’t all the time, either.”

“Define ‘not all the time’.”

Steve shrugs. “I mean I had trouble focusing in class growing up. I got into a few fights. Just whenever the school called.”

“You’re deflecting,” Danny says pointedly.

“Once a month; sometimes more, sometimes less,” Steve answers.

Danny opens his mouth but finds he has absolutely nothing of value to say. Instead, he carefully sets down his beer bottle and stands up. “I’ll be back. I just- fuck. I need a minute to process that.”

The sand is just barely still warm underfoot as Danny starts down the beach. He knows he really ought to have shoes on, just because Steve keeps his beach clean doesn’t mean that everyone else does, but Danny just needs to move.

Everyone has always talked about Steve like he was a golden boy, perfect, A+, all-star. But knowing him now, Danny can’t imagine a Steve that sat well in class, that followed all the rules, that didn’t bounce off the fucking walls after an hour in a seat. Danny can well imagine what a pain in the ass he was a kid. But worse, Danny knows what happens to kids like that. He worked enough abuse cases before he moved up to homicide; kids like Steve were “problems” that impatient parents “fixed” with increasingly harsh punishments, and he can well imagine how justified everyone felt that John was in whipping Steve into shape. Even Steve seems to think it.

For a moment, Danny considers Grace, thinks about how she would react if he or Rachel or Stan ever did that to her. The thought of anyone ever beating his little girl like that makes his stomach turn and his heart clench. He imagines the betrayal and the hurt on her face, wonders how long it would have to go on before she believed that she deserved the pain. The thought makes tears slide down his cheeks. 

And now Steve is sitting alone and confused after essentially baring his soul to Danny. 

Immediately, Danny pulls an about face and hurries back along the beach to Steve, quickly wiping the tears from his face, hoping that the probable redness of his eyes will get missed in the dim lighting.

Steve is still sitting in his chair at the edge of the lawn. He’s looking at this empty beer bottle in a way that Danny can’t quite quantify — sadness, disappointment, _acceptance._

“I’m sorry I left like that,” Danny says as soon as he’s close enough to reasonably begin a conversation. “I couldn’t come up with anything productive to say and I needed a minute. That’s not your fault.”

“So you have something productive to say now?” Steve says with a forced smile. But he looks more closely at Danny as he approaches and Danny knows he’s been caught. “Are you crying?”

“Was there for a minute,” he admits. “It just kinda hit me… oh fuck, that’s an awful pun. I did not mean-”

Steve laughs like he means it and shakes his head. “It’s fine.” Danny hangs his head as he sits again and runs his fingers through his hair for what feels like the fiftieth time in the last couple of hours. 

“You’re a good father,” Steve says suddenly.

Danny nods and swallows around the lump in his throat. “I try.”

“It shows. Grace is lucky.”

Danny wipes his eyes again, the horrible imaginings of his walk on the beach coming back, and Steve leans over putting a hand on Danny’s knee. He shakes his head. “You’re not supposed to be comforting me; it’s supposed to be the other way around,” he tells Steve.

“I don’t think I’m as upset about it as you are,” Steve says.

“Yeah, well I think you should be.”

Steve sits back, taking his hand with him, and scowls at Danny. “Why? What’s the point? I’ve never really thought about it before and I’ve been fine. Why should I go and get upset about something I can’t change?”

Danny sniffles and wags his finger. “No, see it’s not about the abuse. Okay, I mean it is, but less about the actual hitting and more importantly it’s about what you learned, what you started to believe about yourself. You think you deserved it, but kids never deserve to be beaten. I’m sure Doris and John, in all their wisdom, probably did a lot of discipline by shame too, and I bet you believe a lot of it. But think about what they did — would I do any of it to Grace? Would you stop me if I did? Because if you would, then it shouldn’t have happened to you either. I just think maybe you take risks at work, you act you’re expendable because you don’t, I don’t know, think you’re worth more than just to be thrown at a problem, like that’s the value of your life. That’s why it’s something to be upset about — because they lied to you about what you deserve and who you are.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly. 

The lapping of the incoming tide fills the empty space in the conversation until Danny runs out of patience. “You didn’t think you were that obvious about it, did you?”

“I don’t think it was that obvious to _me_ ,” Steve admits.

“It never is, babe,” Danny tries to assure him.

Steve’s quiet again for a minute. “I think I need to be done with this for the night, Danny. You wanna stay? It’s a little late to be driving home and you’ve had a few.”

Danny sniffles, the last of his crying still tickling his nose. “Sounds like a plan.” 

They trudge up the lanai where they gather up the detritus of dinner and haul it to the kitchen. It’s only a matter of minutes before they’ve got the dishware and utensils in the dishwasher and the counters wiped down. 

Steve’s got Danny’s old headphones out and a stack of bed linens on the sofa before either of them speak again. Danny sees the way that Steve’s just standing there at the foot of the stairs, his shoulders tense and his jaw set.

“You gonna be alright? Everything we talked about, I know it wasn’t easy.”

Steve nods without looking up. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Danny distinctly disagrees with that assessment, but doesn’t bother to argue, instead putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, none of this is your fault. Never was. Whatever you need, you tell me. I’m here.”

There’s a pause and Steve nods, a little at first and after a moment with more confidence, and then he’s leaning into Danny, his arms wrapped tightly around Danny. Danny had been worried that Steve wouldn’t let himself need this, wouldn’t admit that he was only human and that once in a while he needs to need someone. He closes his eyes and exhales, realizing only then that he needs the hug, too, after this god-awful evening.

When they finally do part, the hug long enough that Danny is beginning to worry, Steve’s eyes are a little red and watery. 

“Thanks, Danny. I’ll see you in the morning,” he says.

“Any time,” Danny replies. 

He knows he can’t fix the past; all he can do is be there. And he will be, whenever Steve needs him.

**Author's Note:**

> In reference to Steve having trouble in school which may seem OOC for Steve. He displays significant markers of a high-functioning adult with ADHD. That same ADHD in a child would have gone untreated and been entirely misunderstood in the late 80s and early 90s. Kids like Steve were "problem kids" who were assumed to lack discipline and the desire to do their work.


End file.
